


That Ai No Kusabi crossover

by Lilly_White



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Ai No Kusabi Crossover, BDSM, Bondage, F/M, M/M, Master/Pet relationships, Mindbreak, Orgasm Denial, Sextoys, i couldn't find any so i made my own, just gonna follow what the daily prompt says :'D, other ffvii characters may pop up as i have no idea where i'm going with this, sefikura week 2k18
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 11:12:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13480281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilly_White/pseuds/Lilly_White
Summary: Cloud tries to get into Soldier through illicit means, and gets found out. A crime like his usually means permanent banishment from Midgar. But the Blondie who oversees the ShinRa army is apparently open to negotiation, so Cloud negotiates. Even if the only thing he has to bargain with is his body.Written for Sefikura Week 2K18!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Today's prompt was "Showing up unexpectedly"!  
> I'm totally rushing this, so please forgive the overall lack of polish. Even if I'm rushing, the fic has STILL ballooned beyond proportion, so I cut it off earlier than I would've liked. But no matter, we'll get to all the filthy smut tomorrow. :D
> 
> Sefikura week: http://s-ephiroth.tumblr.com/post/169016710488

Cloud sits in his dorm, one hand flattened over the cold green mattress cover. It’s the first time he hasn’t felt scared since setting foot Upworld. He’s got his Soldier-stamped belt. He’s got a bracer full of materia and even a training sword. He’s made it.

The path up from the slums was painstaking. No slummer is allowed into ShinRa’s elite army – they’ve always been known as poor stock, not even good enough to serve as canon fodder. Mongrels, they’re called, even by the lowliest class of Upworlders. To the rest of the city, slummers are barely even human.

Each step towards his goal had taken so long. Accepting that he couldn’t reach the Upperworld through legal means. Growing thick skin and making himself respected by fellow slummers.  Gaining access to the rare forgery artists who could make him false documents. It's taken him four entire years. He's twenty now, and he's been so afraid of going over that age-boundary he’d set himself, to get older and older and see his chance to get into Soldier slip away.

But he's made it. He’s here now. Everybody thinks he’s Cloud Strife, the new guy from Nibelheim, having applied to the exams and paid the ridiculously high fees to be able to get into the lowest rank of ShinRa’s army. He’s got his official Soldier dog tags, and everyone believes his character, right down to the Upworld jargon he’s managed to assimilate. He’s safe.

-

Mostly, he keeps to himself. He has easy friendships with his bunkmates, but apart from that, he tries to lay low, pretending to be in it for the money and the travelling opportunities rather than because Soldier has always been a dream of his. He pretends to be as disinterested as the rest of them, while in secret, he studies as hard as he can to make up for what he doesn’t know. What he _should_ know, as a middle-class Upworlder. Politics, sector disputes, the famous Midgarian caste system. He goes out to explore the nightlife just so that he can stick better to his character, and to understand what it means to no longer be a part of Midgar’s ‘untouchable’ caste. Even at such a low rank as a soldier grunt, he’s still leagues further than slummers in terms of social status, now. He has rights, a credit card, access to materia. He could even vote if he wanted.  

 _It’ll be safe enough in the civilian districts,_ Barret had told him. Barret was the fence who’d given him access to the forgery artists, and who’d taught him the basics of combat skills. _Just make sure you stay out of the way of the Blondies. Those bastards can see right through your goddamn soul._

Blondies. The ShinRa elite. The men who run the Upperworld. Cloud makes sure he reads up on those guys as much as he can. It’s disgusting to think of how the rest of the population might as well be a bunch of gears grinding away in the great system that the Blondies run. 

He knows that one of them is in charge of the military. But apparently they always stay in their ivory tower, cooped up in the ShinRa HQ from where they run the world. It’s extremely rare to see a Blondie anywhere else than in central Midgar, which is their territory, inaccessible to anyone who hasn’t been given a special pass. Cloud has been to the boundary, he’s seen the kind of opulence that lays beyond. He goes to sleep with a view of the ShinRa HQ in his window, wondering what life is like for those who live on top of the world.

Climbing the ranks of Soldier would gain him access – he knows that much, and it’s one of the reasons for his enthusiasm. Surely by the time he gains Second class, he will have had the time to replace his old forged documents by new, clean ones. And he’ll be safe to stride through the great gilded streets of Central Midgar, and tell everyone back home that Cloud Strife has access to the inner sanctum of the modern world.

He can’t wait.

-

It’s barely been two months when a crack appears across Cloud’s clear vision of the future. The crack is formed one afternoon in the barracks. He’s sparring with one of his favourite adversaries, a guy called Kunsel. The man’s always been of exceeding politeness, always letting lower-ranked Soldiers win against him, so it’s been one of Cloud’s favourite pastimes to provoke him until he turns vicious. They’re stripped down to combat trousers and boots, upper bodies covered in a sheen of sweat and criss-crossed by cuts and bruises as they prowl around one another. Cloud is smirking, training sword held low as he keeps his eye on his partner. Kunsel blows his dark tousled hair out of his eyes as he grins back. They charge again, Cloud gaining the upper hand, finishing on his knees with Kunsel in a headlock, sword tip at his throat.

‘I yield, I yield!’ Kunsel cries out, laughing, and Cloud’s high enough on adrenaline to join in the laughter.

‘Not bad for an Upworlder,’ Cloud teases him. When Kunsel glances up at him, Cloud realises his misstep. People don’t refer to the Midgarian plate-dwellers as ‘Upworlders’, at least not up here. Only slummers use the nickname, as a derogatory term for the Midgarian bourgeoisie who are soft-bellied and privileged. Cloud’s slum colours are showing. He gives Kunsel a slap on the shoulder, trying to change tack as he helps the man up.

Then he sees something in the corner of his eye. There’s a murmur among his immediate entourage as a figure steps up to the balustrade overlooking the training arena. The figure is draped in white, shoulder pads squaring his frame, long silver hair streaming over a high collar. He lays a gloved hand on the balustrade and looks straight in Cloud’s direction as he talks with the officers surrounding him.

Cloud can’t feel his legs. Can’t feel his entire body. It’s a goddamned Blondie and he’s looking _straight at him._ Immediately all of his previous paranoia comes flooding back, and it’s all he can do to turn slowly back to Kunsel rather than running away to hide.

‘What’s that Blondie doing here?’ he asks, heart in his throat. Kunsel shrugs.

‘He does check-ups from time to time,’ he says, offering the Blondie a glance. ‘Likes to see if things are running smoothly. To be honest though I don’t think he gives a shit about us, he only ever meets with his officers.  Wanna go for another round?’

‘I-I’m a bit knackered,’ Cloud stammers. ‘I think I’m gonna take a break. Catch you later.’

-

He’s in the locker room, strapping bandages around his wrists and trying to calm down, when he hears the speakers at the corners of the room crackling to life.

_Cloud Strife, requested at Lazard’s office. I repeat, Cloud Strife. Go to Lazard’s office right away, please._

Cloud’s heart plummets to his grimy second-hand boots. He gets up, dusts his bandaged hands on his thighs. Pulls the standard ribbed jumper over his sweaty torso, tells himself that this probably has nothing to do with that Blondie being here. Lazard is the one who attributes ranks, informs them of exams and hands out missions. He doesn’t only punish. Cloud has done nothing to be punished, after all.

… except open his goddamn mouth and spill out slummer slang that he _should’ve_ stamped out by now, Shiva be damned. He’s worked too hard to betray himself like this.

He nervously slicks back his blond spikes as he makes his way through the corridors. The other Soldier hopefuls lift their hands for him to slap in greeting, and he does so automatically, hoping his abject terror isn’t showing.

They can't have any dirt on him. They let him come this far.

When he comes to the door, Lazard isn’t in the room. The Blondie is leaning against the desk, and Cloud can only gape at a ShinRa elite in full regalia; the gilded shoulder pads, the snowy cape with the blood-red interior, the uniform beneath that cinches the man’s waist. He takes up the whole damn room with his looming presence. Cloud fights the irrational urge to bend the knee.  

‘Cloud Strife,’ says the Blondie in a voice as deep as Hades’.

Cloud is in deep shit.

He pushes down the desire to bolt and closes the door behind him.

‘Sir,’ he says, observing the proper etiquette as he stands to attention and clicks his heels together. ‘What can I do for you, sir?’

‘There’s no need for the pomp and ceremony,’ the Blondie purrs, lifting his chin. Cloud looks at the sleek lines of the Blondie’s face, the straight nose, high cheekbones, and those _eyes._ They’re like molten Mako, lighting him up from the inside as he stares into them. ‘Cloud,’ the Blondie says again, mockingly, his shapely lips twitching at the corner. ‘Don't think for a second that your little charade has fooled me.’

Cloud stares helplessly as the Blondie picks up something from behind him. It’s a printed copy of Cloud’s fake ID documents. The Blondie chucks them at Cloud’s feet.

‘You employed a good enough hacker, I’ll give you that,’ the Blondie says. ‘But I only needed to investigate your case for half an hour before I found traces of it.’ He pushes away from the desk, his gaze still full of mocking disdain. ‘You will of course give up the names of those who helped you forge your way up here, if you wish to keep your life.’

‘S-sir,’ Cloud stammers. It’s happening. Everything he’s been so afraid of these past four years. He’s barely lasted two months up here, it’s pathetic. He stares down at the documents at his feet, his throat growing tight. Then he looks up at the Blondie again, desperately. ‘I can explain. Please –  ’

‘I don’t have time for your excuses,’ the Blondie interrupts him. ‘You aren’t the only foolhardy mongrel to have made it this far, so don’t waste your breath. You will be taken through the same procedure as all the others.’

All of his dreams are sifting through Cloud’s fingers like sand. He’ll never be able to climb this far again if he gives up now. Practically blind with desperation, Cloud breaks posture and takes one step towards the Blondie.

‘You don’t understand how important this is to me,’ Cloud bites out. ‘Please. I’ll do anything.’

The Blondie only lifts an immaculate eyebrow. ‘You think I haven’t heard that plea before? Mongrels who forge their way into the higher spheres of Midgar are never shown any quarter. Surely you knew this.’

Cloud is getting irrationally angry at the Blondie's refusal to negotiate.

‘I’ll give you everything I have,’ he insists. ‘I don’t care. Just let me stay.’

The Blondie doesn’t look like he’s going to budge. So, swallowing his pride, Cloud sinks to his knees, head bowed with the humiliation of having to beg. ‘I’ll do anything,’ he repeats sullenly to the Blondie’s brushed leather boots.

There’s a small silence, as though the Blondie were considering what he could take from Cloud that would make up for the offense. Or perhaps he’s admiring Cloud’s stance of utter submission. Cloud grinds his teeth as he kneels there. Then those boots turn to step away, heels clacking against the floor.

‘Get up,’ the Blondie says. ‘A mongrel like you has nothing of interest to give.’

Cloud quakes. He tries to think back on what he’s read about Blondies and the kind of vices they have. All that comes to mind is the system of slavery that exists in the Midgarian upper class. He remembers reading somewhere that Blondies own slaves as a way of showing status. Surely there’s a way to take advantage of the system.

It’s sheer desperation that leads Cloud to say, ‘I do have something to offer you.’

The snap of heels stops. There’s a whisper of expensive fabric swishing together as the Blondie turns around.

‘Oh?’

Cloud glares up at him. ‘My time,’ he says. ‘I’ll serve you in whatever capacity you need. For however long it suits you.’

The Blondie observes him for a moment, his expression indecipherable.

‘Again. You’re a mongrel,’ he deadpans.

‘Are you really that discerning about who gets to be your slave?’ Cloud snaps.

The Blondie seems stunned by Cloud’s lip. He steps up to him again slowly, eyes strung to Cloud’s. Cloud straightens as he kneels there, hating this man more and more by the second. Then the Blondie does something that Cloud would never have expected – he reaches for Cloud’s hair with his gloved hand.

Cloud stays very still, eyes darting over the Blondie’s face as he tries to figure out how to react. That hand closes over the back of his head, softly at first, the contact ringing through Cloud’s body. A Blondie is _touching him._ Then, quicker than he can blink, that hand contracts, pulling his hair into a fist and making Cloud’s head strain back. Throat extended, he gives a low growl of pain as the Blondie holds him there.

‘You have no idea how the system works, do you?’ the Blondie mutters down at him from his lofty height. ‘Of course we are discerning. The quality of our pets reflects our own sense of refinement.’

‘I don’t give a shit about any of that,’ Cloud snarls. ‘Just take what you want from me. All I want is to stay in my Soldier program.’

‘And what could I possibly want from a stubborn lowlife like you, Cloud Strife?’

His tone is low, a deep murmur. Surely he knows what Cloud implied, if he's talking like that. Cloud glares up at him from his awkward, arched position.

‘You Blondies have big appetites,’ he snarls. ‘At least, that’s what I’ve heard.’

The ghost of a smirk flits across the Blondie’s lips. Then, pain spears through Cloud’s body as the Blondie yanks him forwards. Unbalanced, Cloud catches himself on his elbows. While he pushes himself up, he only barely registers that the Blondie is going over to the door to knock on it. Seconds later, two armed guards have stepped inside to haul him off of the floor before he can even protest.

-

He lays in a prison cell with no windows for Gaia knows how long. He spent most of his strength in the first few hours, yelling to the guards, then trying to talk to the prisoners in the cells around him to get a better idea of where he was and what awaited him. They told him that in view of his crime, he would probably be expected to rat out his collaborators before getting permanently banished from Midgar. Upon understanding the finality of his situation, his drive had all but shriveled up. He’s lying on his rickety cot now, furiously rubbing the tears from where they’ve trickled around his hairline and jaw, trying to mentally rewind all of the things he could’ve done differently.

Perhaps it had only ever been a matter of time. Perhaps he hadn’t even stood a chance.

-

A key is jangling noisily in a lock somewhere. Cloud blinks awake. He’s counted about six meals since he was incarcerated – there’s nothing else to mark the passage of time in here, so he thinks it’s been about two days. He perks up just as his door squeals open, four guards filing in.

‘What’s going on?’ Cloud asks them, but they only grab him by the arms and guide him out. They’re too strong for him to fight off, so he diligently lets himself get dragged out, eyes darting around to try and catch a glimpse of who might’ve bailed him out.

There’s a man waiting in the reception hall. He’s got long black hair, and he’s standing there with crossed arms, wearing a slick tailored suit that only someone from the upper class could possibly afford. He turns to Cloud when the guards bring him closer, so Cloud tugs his way out of their grip as soon as it’s clear that the guy is here for him.

‘Is someone gonna tell me what the hell’s going on?’ Cloud snaps, but the man in the suit just scoffs.

‘Come with me,’ he says.

-

It turns out the man is called Tseng. He won’t give Cloud anything more than that, just a name. He drives them both through the boundary into central Midgar, and Cloud is beginning to have a feeling of foreboding as he watches the high, glittering skyscrapers scroll past them.

‘All you need to know is that you have to keep your mouth shut about this,’ Tseng tells him at long last. ‘I don’t know how you managed to get yourself into this situation, but if one word leaves your mouth regarding my employer, I’ll see that you’re taken care of. Do you understand me?’

Cloud nods, his mouth dry.

-

When they park at the foot of the ShinRa HQ, Cloud can’t quite believe where he’s being taken. Tseng guides him through automatic sliding doors that are covered in swirls of gold. The hallways are vast, all white marble and plush carpeting. He taps a code once they get to the elevators, snapping at Cloud to quit gawking.

They ride the elevator up to an impossibly high floor. Cloud has never been up this high. But he doesn’t have the time to take in the sights – he’s immediately lead down a corridor and to an imposing set of double doors. Two women dressed in sheer pastel dresses are waiting, heads bowed, hands clasped. One of them looks up at Tseng as they arrive, and they share a glance. She’s got big green eyes and a friendly kind of face that would’ve put Cloud at ease, if he hadn’t just been bailed out of the Midgar Correctional without any word as to why.

‘I’ll see you later,’ Tseng tells the green-eyed girl, and she nods. Then she turns to Cloud along with the other girl, offering him a tentative smile.

‘If you’d please come with me,’ she says.

They take him into the most sumptuous living area he’s ever seen. Though technically he doesn’t even see much of it – just the main hallway with its gilded staircases and chandelier are enough to make him speechless. The two women usher him up the stairs, across a corridor and into a huge bathroom with what looks like a Jacuzzi built into the floor.

‘Is anyone gonna tell me what the hell I’m doing here?’ Cloud asks the two women, and the green-eyed girl only smiles that sad smile of hers at him again.

‘We’re going to have to bathe you now,’ she says.

‘ _What?_ ’

 ‘You requested an audience with our master,’ she says. ‘He’s agreed to grant you one. So we have to make you ready.’

Cloud can feel his face growing hot. So that’s what all this fanfare was bout. Gaia almighty, he’d only meant to offer a quick fuck or a _series_ of quick fucks, perhaps in a hotel room somewhere. Not all _this_.

‘I can clean myself,’ Cloud grumbles.

‘There are certain… requirements that our master likes to be observed,’ the green-eyed girl says apologetically. ‘Don’t worry. This is all part of our job, we’re used to this.’

Cloud raises his eyebrows at her. ‘And what kind of job is that?’

The green-eyed girl looks at him quizzically, like it’s strange that he hasn’t already guessed. ‘We’re master Sephiroth’s Furniture,’ she tells him. ‘It’s our job to make sure his domestic requirements are met.’

-

The two women run him a bath that smells of flowers and all sorts of expensive perfumes. Soon the room is full of pillowy condensation, and Cloud is finding it harder and harder to breathe as he strips his clothes off. It all feels so unreal, like some of weird fever dream he must be having. Surely he’s still lying in his prison cell cot, drooling on the arm he’s using as a pillow as he dreams this up. The girls kneel by the bath while he scrapes the sweat and gunk off himself, scowling with embarrassment. Then once he’s done they sit him on a fluffy carpet and lather him with sweet-smelling oils, letting it sit before scraping it off his skin with weird little metal sticks. Cloud is just sitting between them, arms out as they go through with the damn Blondie’s ridiculous “requirements”.

‘Does he do this with all the people he fucks?’ Cloud says at one point, and the green-eyed girl glances up at him. She seems amused.

‘I know this must all seem quite foreign to you,’ she says. ‘But Blondies aren’t like normal people.’

‘You’re telling me,’ Cloud says, and she lets out a little laugh. He’s beginning to warm up to her, surely out of some strange desperation to find _some_ kind of sense in this surreal scene.

 Once he’s ready, they clip on some sort of strappy leather harness around his torso, which joins at the front with a ring of metal. They strap bracers around his wrists and ankles, all of which have metal loops dangling off of them. And then… when Cloud sees the black thong, his eyes go wide.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ he says.

‘I’ll let you put this on yourself,’ the green-eyed girl says. She and the other girl diligently look away as Cloud stands up with the thong in hand, shaking his head. He’s only just beginning to understand how much control he’s lent that Blondie over his body with this deal of theirs. He gave the guy his express permission to do whatever he wanted. Like an idiot.

The thong feels oddly smooth and light as it cups his genitals. The strap at the back strains deliciously against his skin and he can’t help but feel a little flustered by his body’s reaction as he walks after the girls again, following them out of the bathroom.

They guide him through a door and into a dark room. There are heavy velvet curtains enclosing a space where a strange sort of divan is sitting. It seems plush, with silk sheets covering it. Cloud looks around at the two girls. One of them is closing the door, exiting the room, leaving him alone with the green-eyed girl.

‘I have to continue preparing you,’ she says softly. She can’t seem to meet his eye any more. ‘Please sit on the divan.’

He does as she asks. There are thin chains at the foot of the divan, and they clatter in the silence as she begins to lift one into her hands. He watches her mutely as she threads the chain through a hole in the upmost curve of the divan above his head.

‘Lift your hands, please,’ she says, and Cloud stares at her. In the dim lights he can just about make out the shape of her body through the sheer dress, the round hips, the slim waist. Her long chestnut braid is falling between her breasts as she leans over him and he tries valiantly to get into the zone. This is how he pays for his freedom, he reminds himself. He swallows, lifts his wrists. She threads the chain through each loop, and pulls his wrists up over his head.

‘So how much ‘preparation’ is there, exactly?’ Cloud asks. The green-eyed girl smiles shyly.

‘It depends on what the master needs,’ she says.

‘And you’re always the one to administer it?’

‘Most of the time.’

‘Not the most conventional of jobs, is it?’

The green-eyed girl looks at him once she’s finished fixing the chains. ‘Not really, no.’

‘What’s your name?’ Cloud asks, because as long as this conversation goes on, he’s postponing the inevitable. He never signed up for this kinky shit. He has no idea what to expect and frankly, he’s more than a little worried now. The green-eyed girl smiles faintly at him again.

‘Aeris,’ she says. ‘I’m going to have to ask you to relax, now. I’ll be back in a minute.’

-


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for today was "puppet"! And..... I guess it counts if it's mindbreak? Rather than true puppet!Cloud? That's what I was going for here, anyway. :'D (Also, if people aren't too hot on the Aeris/Cloud stuff, this chapter will probably be the last time she appears in this type of function.)

-

Cloud is leaning back against the divan cushions, chains clinking above his head as he tries to breathe through the humiliation. Aeris is sitting between his thighs, one hand pulling the thong to the side so that she can continue ‘preparing’ him. The Blondie hasn’t even arrived yet and already Cloud’s long legs are trembling as he anticipates what’s about to happen.

Gaia, he hasn’t felt so fucking helpless since he was a teenager. Back when he was just coming out of puberty, too small and twiggy to look out for himself. He’d get endlessly bullied for how often he hid behind Tifa, how he let a girl fight all his battles for him. He hadn’t really been able to do otherwise when they always ganged up on him, and Tifa was better at crowd control, taking on multiple threats at a time. She still watched his back even when he finally decided to start training, seeing Barret twice a week as he built himself up from the frail complexion he’d inherited from his mother. 

He has a thought for his childhood friend, what she would think if she knew he was here. She’s always been so proud. Much prouder than him. She would never let anyone manhandle her or take advantage. It’s one of the reasons why she’s capable of single-handedly running a bar down in the sleazier districts of the slums. Not a lot of women could do that.

Cloud can see Tifa’s face now behind his closed eyelids, the way she always holds her head high, the way her knuckles are always red and scraped. She used to wear lacy gloves out of self-consciousness, up until Cloud told her that she shouldn’t be ashamed. Those knuckles attested to the fact that she didn’t take anyone’s bullshit.

He’s always admired that about her. Gaia, she would be so fucking disappointed if she knew what he was doing. Just to keep his precious position at Soldier.

Aeris’s lube-drenched fingers press lightly between his thighs. The chains clatter as he tenses up.

'Relax,' she reminds him.

‘So that fucking Blondie even gets someone else to do the foreplay for him?’ he growls as he feels her fingers circling his tight hole.

‘I wouldn’t think of it as foreplay,’ Aeris says softly. ‘He simply wants you to be prepared, and that means a certain physical training to make your body ready.’

Cloud scoffs. ‘Does the guy have any idea what sex is meant to be about?’ he hisses. ‘I don’t see how anyone could enjoy this when ninety percent of the work gets done by someone else.’

‘I told you,’ Aeris says. ‘Blondies aren’t like normal people.’

When that finger enters him, Cloud’s back arches, head digging back into the pillows as the sting of the contact rips through his body. It takes a few seconds before he adjusts to her, and he’s biting his lip, eyes squeezed shut.

The most laughable thing about this whole situation is that he’s never done anything like this before. He’s a goddamned virgin. With all the details Tifa has given him about her rambunctious sex life, he always felt like he knew all the theory there was to know – he felt like this would be easy. But he’s only just realising that he is not prepared at all. He’s already panting as he forces himself to relax around that cold intrusion.

‘Do you have to do this?’ he mutters. 

‘I won’t be much longer,’ Aeris tells him. She sounds sympathetic. He can only guess how many times she’s done this, how many other people she’s ‘prepared’ for her master. At least she has the decency to show empathy.

After the sting has died down and turned into a vague feeling of discomfort, Cloud’s body settles uneasily against the silk sheets again. Aeris withdraws. She leans over the divan, opens a drawer. She lifts something out of it, and he hears her squirting more lube onto her fingers as she prepares it.

‘This might hurt at first,’ she tells him. ‘But if you just relax, it’ll get better.’

He looks between his thighs, the movement making him jerk his arms and clatter the chains again. He can’t even move without all that damn metal clanging in his ears. She’s holding some kind of rubber plug in her hands, and he can see a wire extending from the base. When he sees her angling it between his thighs, Cloud digs his feet into the divan, trying to push away from her.

‘What are you doing?’ he bites out. ‘Surely there’s no need – ’

‘It’ll be alright,’ Aeris tells him, gazing up at him kindly like she’s asking him to accept something perfectly reasonable, like eating his greens or buttoning up his coat. ‘Honestly. It’s quite pleasant after the initial sting.’

Cloud breathes sharply through his nose, staring at her desperately. There’s no way around this. He understands better now why the Blondie asked her to chain him up – he couldn’t get away from this even if he tried. When she presses the rounded tip against his hole, Cloud lets his head fall back against the cushions, breathing deeply. _Relax,_ he reminds himself. The key is to relax.

The plug enters him smoothly and it’s – much bigger than her fingers, and so fucking filling. The stretching sensation at the entrance is almost overwhelming. He’s breathing hard now, trying to grow accustomed to the sensations. Then – Aeris does something, angles the plug a certain way, and something lurches through him, some kind of – intensity that he’s never felt before. He can feel his cock stirring and he turns his face against his arm shamefully.

But she’s not finished. With the plug snugly fitted against that hypersensitive spot, she clicks a button and – Cloud cries out in surprise. The plug is _vibrating._ Right against that spot. He tries to stop from writhing, gritting his teeth. He’s torn between the urge to yank that thing out and grind harder against it. Heat pools in his lower belly, goosebumps spread over his naked skin as he fights his restraints. For a moment the only sounds are the vibrating plug, the clang of chains, and his own ragged breathing.

‘I’m going to go,’ Aeris tells him. ‘My master will be with you shortly.’

Cloud opens his eyes with difficulty and stares at her as she gets up from the divan. He realises with a jolt that the Blondie is going to come in and see him _like this_. Wearing nothing but leather straps and chains, thighs trembling, his cock as hard as a fucking block of wood in this ridiculous underwear. He wants nothing more than to grab the sheets and cover himself, but his hands are still caught above his head, useless. He strains mindlessly against his chains as Aeris steps away.

‘Don’t go,’ he says, perhaps because her leaving him would signal the start of a second act that he’s _absolutely not_ ready for.

Aeris only smiles at him again. She looks like she wants to help him, but her own position makes it impossible. He suddenly realises that she must be just as powerless as him, bending to the whims of her master. She turns around, slides through the curtains, and leaves.

-

He’s alone in the dark for a long time. Just like she said, the sting of the plug ebbs away after a few minutes of him breathing and trying his damnedest to relax. And then… Gaia. The vibrations are just soft enough to be teasing, and just hard enough to send waves of pleasure through him as they throb against his prostate. He’s panting, feet digging uselessly against red silk, pressing his open mouth against his arm as the chains sing in his ears. Tifa has never described anything like this to him – he always thought that men tended to take what they wanted far more directly than this, at least according to her own experiences. This, on the other hand – this isn’t foreplay, this is some kind of elaborate torture.

He can’t believe that he’s allowing himself to be in such a state in a complete stranger’s home. Then again, he’s not _allowing_ anything – he’s helpless and restrained, this isn’t his own doing – but at the same time, he feels so fucking ashamed of how hard his cock his throbbing. He needs to touch himself, _needs_ to bring the stimulation to a climax, but his wrists only twist uselessly in their cuffs as he writhes.

Each second is torture. Each minute stretches on as he balances painfully on the brink. He keeps having to consciously relax his body, his muscles are tensing up so much. Soon enough he can feel beads of sweat running down his sides, along the creases of his abs. He tries to angle his hips so that he can rub himself against the sheets, and when his cock presses into a stiff fold of silk, he hears himself moan brokenly at the relief. But the fold flattens far too quickly. It’s hardly enough.

He feels like he’s been there for hours when he hears the door opening. He just about has the sense to lift his head, hoping deliriously that perhaps Aeris has come back, perhaps she’ll take this goddamned thing out of him. A figure steps through the curtains, and when he sees her pastel pink dress and her long braid, his heart leaps at the prospect of being freed – but she only steps aside, head bowed, hands clasped as she stands there.

A white leather glove slides down the velvet curtains, parting them.

It’s him. The Blondie. He sweeps into the small space, his sheer presence taking Cloud's breath away. He’s still wearing that goddamned cloak. What did she say his name was? Never mind. Cloud is too ashamed to chase the thought. He turns away as far as he can, arms straining as the chains hold him back.

To his horror, he feels warmth near his side, and the divan cushions sink a little as the Blondie sits beside him. Cloud’s toes curl against the silk, biting back the moans that are building in his throat as the plug continues to torment him.

‘Well, well. You seem to be far less talkative than before,’ the Blondie purrs.

 Cloud lets out a breath. ‘Why are you doing this?’ he gasps.

‘I’m simply giving you a taste of what this deal would involve,’ the Blondie says, his tone deceptively soft. ‘You offered to let me do anything I want. I thought I would give you the opportunity of understanding just what that means.’

Panting, Cloud manages to turn his head to the side, one step closer to looking the Blondie in the face. _Sephiroth._ That was his name.

'You mean you’re giving me a choice?’ he mutters.

‘Yes,’ Sephiroth says. Cloud hears a rustle of fabric as he lifts his hand, and then there’s leather against his side, fingertips sliding along his sweat-slick flank. Cloud arches mindlessly at the contact, surprising himself at how starved he’s been for someone to touch him. ‘After this is over, you can choose to walk away and go back to incarceration and eventual banishment,’ Sephiroth purrs. Cloud tenses as he feels those fingertips following the dip of his back, the curve of his ass. They’re travelling far too low, and he fights the urge to clamp his legs together, knowing that would just heighten the pressure of the plug.

Sephiroth’s fingers dip between his ass cheeks and Cloud bites his lip. No one has ever touched him there. Then Sephiroth _presses_ against the base of the plug, and Cloud can’t hold back the whimper as a bolt of pleasure streaks through his body.

‘Or you could stay here,’ Sephiroth murmurs, leaning over him. Cloud can feel long strands of silky hair curling over his naked shoulder. ‘And accept to submit yourself to me for as long as I require. Which is what you offered, I believe.’

‘I just meant regular sex,’ Cloud gasps as Sephiroth angles the plug harder against his prostate. ‘I never meant all of this – your servants giving me a fucking _bath,_ and then – doing all the fucking foreplay – ’

‘You didn’t seriously think I would lay my hands on a filthy slummer like you before you were adequately cleaned up?’ Sephiroth murmurs. Then his hand mercifully moves away, making Cloud slump a little. He doesn’t even realise that he’s half-leaning against his captor. That leather-clad hand slides over his hip, and Cloud closes his eyes helplessly as he feels the warm pressure of his palm enveloping his cock. Sephiroth can feel him – feel how hard he is, each and every throb betraying how desperately he needs to come.

‘I’m simply treating you like a First Class pet,’ Sephiroth murmurs to him.

-

For the first hour of the session, Sephiroth hardly touches him. He asks his Furniture to kneel between Cloud’s thighs and take his cock into her mouth, and the sheer satisfaction of her hot wet lips around him is almost enough to make him come straight away. But it’s difficult to let go when Sephiroth is watching them, sitting there and enjoying the view as Cloud arches mindlessly and Aeris takes him deep into her throat. 

But after a while, Cloud is no longer in control. The climax builds and builds until he couldn’t hold it back even if he wanted to. And when he throws his head back, mouth open, breath held in his lungs as every muscle in his body tenses – he can feel Sephiroth drinking in the sight of him.

‘Stop,’ he tells Aeris. And Cloud is suddenly falling away from the edge, stomach lurching as she stops all stimulation and straightens up. His erection falls against his stomach, come leaking over his skin though the orgasm has shattered, falling through him and making him feel sick with unfulfilled need.

Aeris withdraws while Cloud tries hard not to whimper. He’s spent and yet the frustration is at its peak. He barely registers her bowing and leaving them both alone.

Sephiroth’s leather-clad hand returns to his cock, smearing thick white come over the shaft as he caresses him. Cloud blinks blearily up at him, taking in the elegant traits of Sephiroth’s face, the way he can’t take his eyes off of the mess he’s made.

‘What kind of sick game are you playing?’ Cloud bites out. He’s horrified by how close he is to tears because of the frustration. ‘Just hurry up and fuck me already.’

Sephiroth’s glowing eyes catch his. Then he’s grasped the edge of the plug, and Cloud digs his head into the pillows as Sephiroth gently pulls it out. Emptiness replaces the delicious strain, and he finds that he’s aching for something to fill him as thoroughly as the plug had.

‘I see no need to hurry,’ Sephiroth purrs.

When he removes his hand, Cloud opens his eyes again, only to find Sephiroth biting the fingers of his glove and pulling it off. His naked hand emerges, and Cloud finds the gesture to be oddly intimate, as though Sephiroth were undressing before him. The glove falls somewhere on the divan, and Cloud can’t breathe as that naked hand resumes its previous position. That is, between his thighs. Warm fingertips slip over Cloud’s lube-slick hole, and Cloud is panting, stubbornly holding Sephiroth’s gaze as though he could ward him off that way. Then Sephiroth slides two fingers inside him, stretching him, and Cloud lets his head fall back as he gasps.

Sephiroth is hooking his fingers against that _spot_ and it’s already overstimulated, it’s too much. Cloud is moaning despite himself, writhing, not knowing whether to pull away or push against Sephiroth’s fingers. The pressure is building and he needs something larger, he needs _more_ than this, he needs to come _properly_ – this is worse than pain, worse than torture, the aching need to make up for that ruined orgasm. He can hardly think straight. His entire being is arched towards that pinnacle, that goal, and when Sephiroth stretches him with a third finger, he welcomes it, moaning brokenly and making the kinds of noises he shouldn’t be making in front of a complete stranger.

 ‘You hardly need any stimulation at all, do you?’ Sephiroth murmurs. Cloud can hardly register what he’s saying, he’s panting so much. ‘I thought you mongrels had more pride than this. But look at you. Your whole body is already begging me for it.’

Anger ignites in Cloud’s chest. He turns to glare at Sephiroth, though the effect is probably ruined by his flushed cheeks and the hair that’s sticking to his forehead.

‘Fuck you,’ he snarls, mindless. Sephiroth smirks down at him before _ramming_ against his prostate. Cloud can only cry out and hold onto his own chains as his cock throbs painfully in response.

Sephiroth brings him to the brink with his fingers, and withdraws again, just like before. This time Cloud hasn’t let the build-up climb too far, he’s gritting his teeth, holding back. When he sees Sephiroth leaning over to open that damned drawer, despair grips him. He couldn’t take another hour of torturous teasing with no relief in sight.

‘Please,’ he whispers, and Sephiroth stills. He glances over at Cloud’s sweaty face, taking in his puffy eyes and raw, bitten lips. 

‘What was that?’ Sephiroth asks him.

‘I can’t take any more of this,’ Cloud sighs. ‘Please.’

Sephiroth straightens, looming over him. He plants one hand by Cloud’s waist, the other climbing up the straps of Cloud’s harness until he’s reached the column of Cloud’s neck.

‘I’ve never heard of a pet that was so quick to beg,’ he murmurs. ‘I haven’t even begun to discipline you.’

Cloud hates him, hates how helpless he is, how much he _needs_ Sephiroth to fill him.

‘Just let me come!’ he gasps.

‘Not yet.'

-

By the time Sephiroth decides to finally give Cloud what he so desperately needs, it’s been hours. At least, it feels that way to Cloud. He can’t remember what it was like to live without this pulsating void in his body, this urge to be filled that can never quite be satisfied. He’s got his face against his arm, biting his own skin as Sephiroth sits between his thighs. Both of his hands are gloveless – one is sliding up and down Cloud’s cock, the other is angling a bigger vibrating plug inside him. Cloud doesn’t trust him, doesn’t want to allow the build-up to reach its peak if Sephiroth will just sweep everything out from under his feet again.  

‘Cloud,’ Sephiroth whispers, and Cloud opens his eyes, looking at Sephiroth’s hungry expression, those glowing eyes darkened with lust. ‘You’re holding back.’

‘You’re just going to stop if I don’t,’ Cloud pants miserably.

‘Not this time,’ Sephiroth says. He tightens the ring of his fingers around Cloud’s cock, and Cloud cries out, his body stretching under Sephiroth’s fingertips. ‘Come for me,’ Sephiroth purrs, his voice low with desire. ‘I promise I won’t stop.’

He pumps Cloud’s cock faster, and Cloud doesn’t even care how much noise he’s making as he lets the pleasure build. He doesn’t want to trust his captor, but – it feels so good – and he’s so _close._ He’s terrified when he feels himself reach the point of no return – but Sephiroth is true to his word, he doesn’t stop, and Cloud lets out a feral yell as he finally, finally comes, bursting in Sephiroth’s hand as the orgasm streaks through him. It’s too much, too intense, and for a moment Cloud feels like he’s blacked out, lying there with his head back and his eyes squeezed shut.

When he manages to regain some form of mental coherence, Sephiroth has untied his wrists, so he can cradle his arms against his chest as he lies on his side. Sephiroth is sitting beside him on the divan, apparently still observing him. Cloud has regained enough of his wits to find this strange – the guy never even took his clothes off or pleasured himself.

‘Is that it, then?’ Cloud pants. ‘What, am I too much of a lowlife for you to actually fuck me?’

‘All in due time,’ Sephiroth says softly. ‘I enjoyed this just as much.’

‘So you’re some kind of voyeur?’

He hears him utter a small laugh. And then Sephiroth simply says, ‘Cloud.’

The sound of his name in that mouth seems to have become synonymous with this sex-drenched atmosphere. Cloud feels a shiver run down his spine as he waits for Sephiroth to continue.

‘I will only fuck you once I have collared you,’ Sephiroth murmurs. ‘And that can only happen if you agree to it.’

Cloud hears the question loud and clear. The prison, or this? Permanent banishment, or serving as a Blondie’s plaything in order to earn access to his dreams again?

Shivering, Cloud tucks his knees in further. Then, feeling Sephiroth’s heavy gaze on him, he nods.

‘I’ll do it,’ Cloud mutters.

-


End file.
